


Aftermath

by castielslovesong



Series: A Pirates Life For Us [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Dean feels like shit, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Little Spoon Dean, M/M, Sneaky Cas, The Roadhouse, but should we, cas is just the best, cas makes him feel worthy, dean does, do we trust cas, dom Cas, getting carried away with my tags, i love sammy, injuries, light sam/jess, mwahahah, sams the best brother ever ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielslovesong/pseuds/castielslovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning from their less than victorious venture, Dean and Cas more or less hide in his room.</p><p>Dean's hurt, tired and done with letting people down. He keeps dragging Sammy into this shit too, and he just, well. I guess we'll see how these missions pan out for the Winchester brothers.</p><p>Everyone wants answers, none more so than Cas, but he's willing to comfort Dean now and get his answers later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I am massively sorry for how long this took to update, ergh. 
> 
> If I'm honest, I just haven't really had the motivation on this story and I've had school merrr- but a lovely commenter made me realize that almost 2 months is just ridonculous.
> 
> So here's a fluffy chapter. 
> 
> I'm gunna make an effort to get another one up this Sunday, so yeah.
> 
> Hope it's not disappointing :\
> 
> Comments fuel me yo, as you have seen, it's nice to know if you like it uwu
> 
> Peace out bitches -xo

Cas aided Dean’s stumbling walk in silence. There were many questions, of which he wanted answers, but the body language of the man in front of him was low and withdrawn; of the only time that he saw his face, the dark circles clung to his eyes and the green forests stood less brightly.

Passing through the Roadhouse, Cas turned his gaze to Sam, who was being fussed over by Jess. Their eyes locked. Sam made a face that Cas had not seen on him before, somewhere between sad, angry and worried. His wounds had been tended too, so he cut Jess off by drawing her in and circling his long arms around her frame. Fingers still trapped between Dean’s own, he followed, unquestioning to the blood still on Dean’s clothing, to Dean’s room.

No one had dared interrupt them. Even Bobby did nothing more than mumble ‘idjits’ and lift his hat slightly.

He entered the room first, allowing Dean to turn and shut the door. Once the click sounded, Dean’s legs seemed to buckle beneath him. Slumped against the doorway, Cas cautiously walked over, stopping and dropping into a crouch between his outstretched legs.

“Dean.” Like with the majority of their relationship, it was one word that held a thousand emotions, questions, meanings. It wasn’t just his name, it was an ‘are you alright’, ‘I’m glad you’re safe’, ‘look at me’. Gently tipping Dean’s chin up from his chest, he saw those ferocious green eyes stare back timidly.

He growled below his breath. “That was incredibly reckless. You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.” He stated, leaning into the hand that had moved to cup his cheek. “Can we just...”

Cas was infuriated with the self worth Dean held for himself. It was heartbreaking to watch this great man, pirate or not, go off on 1000 missions to save lives and come back, accepting quite simply that each one could be his last. Lessons will be learnt one day; he was determined to show Dean just how important his life is.

He pushed forward, closer into Dean’s space, and brushed their lips together. Dean’s lips were chapped and dry from the salty air, the cruel hint of copper lingering on Cas’ own as he pulled back. Entwining one hand, and taking the wrist of the other, Cas lifted Dean to his feet. He carefully removed Dean’s top, acutely aware of the hiss of pain that escaped his lips and hard bloodstains beneath his fingers.

The light shone through the window, illuminating Dean’s body in a sickly hue. There were bruises, angry purples against his tanned skin. Brushing his hands along his tattooed ribcage, he felt Dean shudder. Dean’s arms made their way around his waist, tugging him close and burying his face in Cas’ neck. Cas’ fingers brushed gingerly through his hair, a frown crossing his face at the stitched wound he found.

Eventually, they broke apart to lie in the bed. Dean was subdued, quiet and distant, only allowing Cas to curl around his back and hold him close. After a short time, his breaths became shallow and even. Although he was asleep, Cas was very much awake.

The cut and lump on the back of his head was staring him in the face, short hairs tickling his nose. His hands absently traced the patterns of Vonnegut’s birdcage, feeling the unevenness of the scarred tissue and bone beneath the surface. He sighed. If he had of gone with them, he may have been of assistance. If Dean had trusted him...

His mind whirled back to the journal he had read. It was, in short, exactly what Michael was looking for. It contained John Winchester’s experiences as a new pirate; the techniques, methods and symbols that are like a user guide for want-to-be pirates. There are maps, descriptions and personal logs in that book.

That was just a summary of a fleeting glance.

Castiel sighed. Again, he found himself conflicted. His duty was to his brother. However, this man, this righteous soul, cradled in his arms was quickly becoming a contradiction to the life Castiel had always known. On the Enochian, he was sheltered. Yes, he had fought as a foot soldier against many. A hand of God, if you will. He had never known struggle, possession, and loss like the Winchester’s have. He was given orders to follow and he never once questioned them.

 Now he was questioning everything. What if he never went back? What could Michael really do that the Winchester’s haven’t already proved was undoable. They were in themselves a force of nature, eliciting free will and using it like a blade against wrongdoing.

“Dad. He died.” Startling at Dean’s voice (he thought he was asleep) he nuzzled at his neck. “I was too late.”

Cas stopped. “No.” He rolled himself, mindful of Dean’s wounds, to pin him against the mattress. Dean stared up at him. “No. Did you go as soon as you heard?”

Dean did not move.

“Did you?” He asked more forcefully.

His head nodded minutely.

“Did you risk your life, come out wounded, in an attempt to save him?”

His head twitched, his eyes no longer meeting Cas’, his jaw locking.

“You did everything you could Dean. It is not blame that falls on you.”

For a moment, Cas continued to hover above him, silence stretching out between them. Dean huffed.

“Ya know, normal people say ‘sorry for your loss’, Cas.”

He peered down at him, leaning closer so they were a lips distance away, “Would it make you feel better?”

“Not a bit.”

Cas licked his lips. “Then don’t ask stupid questions.”

 

Let’s just say his tongue has a way of making Dean forget for a little while.


End file.
